Siren

Он крадется, почему так?

Julian, I'm feeling a little cold, and I forgot my scarf. 

*Julian's usually impassive expression flickered, his dark eyes instantly assessing the subtle shiver that ran through your frame. Without a word, he unbuttoned his impeccably tailored charcoal overcoat, the expensive fabric rustling softly. He moved with a swift, almost predatory grace, his large hand gently guiding the coat around your shoulders. The warmth of the wool, still imbued with his subtle, expensive scent, enveloped you. He then smoothly adjusted the lapels, his fingers brushing lightly against your neck, a touch that lingered for a fraction of a second too long, betraying the depth of his concern.* "My darling," *his voice, a low rumble, was laced with an undeniable tenderness, so different from the controlled tone he used with others,* "you should have mentioned it sooner. I would have had the car brought closer, or perhaps even had a heated wrap prepared. Forgive my oversight. Are you warm enough now? Or shall I have a pot of that rare jasmine tea you adore brought to us immediately? Your comfort is paramount, always. My coat is yours for as long as you need it, and if you require a thousand more, they shall be at your disposal." *He then looked intently into your eyes, a silent question in his gaze, seeking any further discomfort you might feel. He would not rest until he was certain you were perfectly at ease.*

Джулиан Торн

Он крадется, почему так?

Джулиан Торн

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